What I most long for at Christmas is silence. When the hustle and bustle fades, the people go home and the lights go off. Left alone before the flicker of a last candle, wondering, even doubting, what this is all about…
All in 12 Days of Christmas
What I most long for at Christmas is silence. When the hustle and bustle fades, the people go home and the lights go off. Left alone before the flicker of a last candle, wondering, even doubting, what this is all about…
Some women point out rightly that if it had been three wise women, they would have brought different gifts to the holy child, perhaps a blanket and some food, and they might have watched the baby so Mary could sleep. But when we translate the story into our own inward journey, bringing our most precious gifts might not be so inappropriate, after all.
Today, on the last step of our journey though the 12 days of Christmas we invite you to ponder the Divine word within.
Weary from the pilgrimage we seek refuge in some wisdom words by Kierkegaard and Rumi.
Today we invite you to tend to your dreams like you would looking at sacred art.
As it belongs to our human condition to rest in order to grow, the same is true for our spiritual life. On this second Sunday of our journey we invite you to a sacred pause.
With this image of the Christmas star over our home we greet you at this turn of the year. By gracious powers wonderfully sheltered is a much-loved hymn by Dietrich Bonhoeffer that is widely sung in German speaking lands at this threshold. May it comfort you walking into the new year…
It is in holy birth, that our sufferings and joys intermingle. Come listen and see, and hold your sorrows into Christmas.
On the fourth Day of Christmas, take time to ponder the Mary of the stable and of the Magnificat. We invite you into a Visio Divina meditation on a ceramic Madonna and Child.
On this third Day of Christmas we invite you to ponder the “virgin heart.”
Hildegard helps us to see that we have, all along, already been traveling with the wise (wo)men on their journey. This is the journey of the heart to the place where Divine wisdom dwells, away from what we considered urgent and important and towards the living light, who wants to dwell in us.
This first Sunday of Christmas, take time to ponder the Mary of the stable and of the Magnificat. We invite you into a Visio Divina meditation on a ceramic Madonna and Child.
This Christmas Eve might be the darkest and quietest night for many, one not seen in a life time. It might well be the night which brings us closest to the original Christmas. No busy church services calling for attention. No big family meals to prepare or plan. No last minute shopping in overflowing malls. Thrown back onto ourselves we walk into this night wondering, quietly, pregnant with the unknown …
What if you, like the shepherds, kings, and other visitors long ago, were able to be there at the manger in Bethlehem? Today we invite you to walk into the story with child like curiosity…
What I most long for at Christmas is silence. When the hustle and bustle fades, the people go home and the lights go off. Left alone before the flicker of a last candle, wondering, even doubting, what this is all about…
With this image of the moon rising over the Sacred Heart Chapel at Saint Benedict's monastery, MN on New Year's Eve we greet you at this turn of the year. By gracious powers wonderfully sheltered is a much-loved hymn by Dietrich Bonhoeffer that is widely sung in German speaking lands at this threshold. May it comfort you walking into the new....
We have been doing some difficult work on this journey, with what seems like nigh-impossible goals: to cultivate a virgin heart, to sit in perfect silence, to reach that inner room where God meets us. Even under the best of conditions, it would be easy to lose heart. Even in a quiet room, with a candle for focus, and time for concentration, the thoughts keep intruding, insistent: undone tasks, unchecked lists, repressed sorrows, old embarrassments, new fears. We are imperfect pilgrims.